


Pitch Black

by Ketlingr



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Depression, Drama, Family, Gen, Imprisonment, Loki Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 23:43:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ketlingr/pseuds/Ketlingr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Overwhelmed by a feeling of fundamental loss, there was only a moment of clarity, a moment of realisation – he was alone now. There was no-one left to believe in him, to see the light in him. And then darkness rolled over him, through him and Loki lost touch with what he did, lost himself to the chaos that burned inside him."</p><p>Do not read if you haven't watched Thor 2 yet - contains Spoilers! </p><p>My attempt at putting Loki's time in prison into words. One-Shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pitch Black

**Author's Note:**

> I repeat, do not read unless you have already watched Thor 2. This will contain spoilers!
> 
> This is only a one-shot, and a short one at that, but I felt like putting it out there... 
> 
> I'm not sure about the quotes, I have yet to watch the movie in English (I have only seen it once, so far, in German), so the quotes are translations to roughly convey the meaning of what I think they said in German (I don't even remember the literal German quotes...).
> 
> Also, the scene with Frigga is kind of an alternative interpretation, probably.
> 
> I can't wait to watch the movie again... maybe I'll correct the quotes then, maybe I'll add to the chapter, too, we'll see. I have so much love for Loki...

* * *

How long had it been since they had left him here? The guards' changing shifts were a suitable measure of time, but Loki had lost interest in counting. What did it matter? To him, it was all the same, he was not missing anything, he was not getting out here any quicker if he counted the days. And to anyone else? It was not like anyone cared that he was down here, locked up like a criminal, like an animal.  
Sometimes, Loki would watch the other prisoners, sharing their cells, talking to each other, sometimes fighting with each other or finding other ways to pass their time. Other times, he would lounge on the various articles of furniture he had been provided with, displaying his boredom. No visitors. No surprise.  
When Loki was sure nobody was looking, he made himself his own visitor. Just one. The one person he wished to see, the one person he knew would come and visit him, if she was allowed to. Frigga, his mother – adopted mother – the one person who had not lost faith in Loki. But even she, even the illusion he created to be her, criticised Loki for his choices, for his pride and his stubbornness.  
He had had his reasons, why did no-one see them? Why did they not understand? Why did they not ask?  
It pained him, angered him. Loki wore his masks day and night, never once letting his emotions shine through. But however calm his façade was, there was a storm raging inside him, unsettling, rough on the bruised skin of his mind. In his sleep, Loki would see the Other, he would relive his time between the worlds, would revisit New York and the chaos he had created, see the faces of those who opposed him, the lack of empathy and understanding in their eyes. But most of all, he would see the distance between himself and his brother Thor, the always disappointed frown on Odin's face. Odin, the man Loki had considered a father, an idol and a wise man, who was in fact nothing but a liar and a fool. And then, from the depth of his darkest dreams, the fair hand of his mother would come and raise him to the light of hope. Hope that one day Loki would serve his purpose and be a king.  
 _Your purpose was to die and nothing else._  
Loki awoke with a start, covering his face with his hands until he had shrouded himself in fake calmness once more. The remainder of the night he spent pacing his cell, unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong, that he was missing something, losing something.

* * *

It was rare to see anything interesting happen in prison. However, it seemed today was Loki's lucky day. Intrigued, he watched the prisoner break free, free the men around him, one by one, all of them. This was his chance...  
Careful not to seem too eager, Loki waited for his turn. The creature – it would have been a stretch to call it a person any longer – approached his cell, stared at him, observing. Their eyes met and Loki understood, immediately, that he was not going to be free after all. Inwardly, he cussed, yet he knew better than to show his disappointment. There was always use for an ally, even if it did not yet recognise Loki as one.  
“I would advise you to take the left turn.”  
Stepping back from the glass, Loki watched the guards fight, many of them losing their lives. He took no delight in watching them die, much rather an interest in the nature of the creature's power. Why would someone – something – so powerful let itself be captured? There was no way it had been here against his will... 

* * *

The emotion that washed over Loki was too strong to hold a name. Powerful and singing rage, painful and stinging grief, shaking him to the very base of his soul. The burst of energy leaving his body, flinging furniture through the room, was a silent scream, only fuelling the sense of devastation that was unsettling his mind.  
Frigga.  
Overwhelmed by a feeling of fundamental loss, there was only a moment of clarity, a moment of realisation – he was alone now. There was no-one left to believe in him, to see the light in him. And then darkness rolled over him, through him and Loki lost touch with what he did, lost himself to the chaos that burned inside him.  
It was not until he found himself panting, slumped against the wall of his cell, his feet bleeding from where he stepped into the wreckage he created, that Loki regained a sense of control over himself. Where all the emotions had been there was now nothing. Nothing to drive him forward, nothing to keep him alive, nothing to care for – because there was nobody left who cared.  
Never since discovering his true descent had Loki felt so vulnerable. His mind was an open wound, with nothing offering him protection. Fear struck Loki, but he did not move, too weak, too exhausted to set things right, to right himself or at least the chaos all around him. He felt powerless.  
Yet his sense of self-preservation had always been one of his strongest characteristics and even though it cost him more strength than he thought he still had, he conjured an illusion to protect the remains of what had been Loki the Proud.  
For how long he sat in silence, staring into the emptiness of his own thoughts, Loki did not know. His illusionary self kept up its appearance, cold and distant. Loki's attention was drawn back to reality when someone approached his cell. He struggled, fought to remain in this blissfully empty place, but was drawn out of it to lend his illusionary self bitter, scornful words to throw at his brother.  
It spoke for the state of his mind that his illusion was too strong to even fool Thor. It dissolved, offering Thor a view of wrecked furniture, broken glass, stains of dried blood and at the edge of it, pale and dishevelled, sunken against the wall, Loki looking up to him, resign and pain and grief marking his face like a death mask.


End file.
